Back in mid-March at the tail-end of spring break, we took Maya and Ian out for their annual bluebonnet photos. It just so happened that Grammy and Grandpa Schmidt were visiting at the same time. It’s a beautiful time of year to come to central Texas. The weather is warming up but not yet hot, all manner of wildflowers color highway medians and hillsides, and it’s still pretty cold in the Midwest, so it was a pleasant escape for my parents.

Maya, age 4 and Ian, age 2

The kids loved monopolizing their grandparents’ time. We didn’t get a long visit, but there was plenty of time spent combing the yard and filling Grandpa’s pockets with all manner of acorns, snail shells, and rocks. Ian had just spent his spring break week potty training, so he was obsessed with the bathroom, pestering all of us into taking him potty about 10 times for every one time he really needed to go.

Does this count as Maya’s first camping trip?

The fun thing Maya got to do over spring break was test out camping. Mind you, we just pitched the tent in the front yard, but she and I slept out there all night. She LOVED it and still talks about going camping again. We need to run the same test with Ian to see how he feels about it.

Gardening! (Ian doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, so it was really just me and Maya doing the planting.)

We also built our spring garden. This year is the longest it’s lasted. The kids and I start out with big ambitions about all the great produce we could grow, and as the heat sets in and our schedules get hectic and illnesses and/or job issues kick in, the garden gets neglected. This year it made it all the way to mid-summer. We actually had real lima bean pods on the plant. Maybe next year is our year.

Ian and Maya with Grammy and Grandpa

The evening before they drove back to Missouri, we took Grammy, Grandpa, and the kids out to Pizzeria Sorellina. It’s a beautiful place with some really interesting and well-made pizzas. We sat outside at a picnic table, sipped cocktails, and watched the sky darken. The kids ran around and ignored the grown-ups until dessert showed up. Ian visited the bathroom way too frequently.

I don’t remember a lot of the details of the visit anymore, but I do remember that we all enjoyed it. Maya and Ian love seeing their grandparents. Ian got to show off his new bathroom skills. My parents got to escape the cold for a couple of days. Sean and I could actually do a few things around the house without the kids immediately underfoot. Since we weren’t really able to go anywhere for spring break this year, it was nice to have family come to see us. (I’m not sure who we’re kidding. They totally came for the grandkids!)

“Bye, Pumpkin. I hope I remember you when you die.” That’s what I overheard from Maya this morning as she was petting the cat before school. We’ve done a few special things for Pumpkin over the past couple of days, and our ever more perceptive four year old has taken notice. We took Pumpkin outside to let her play in the yard. We tried to let her have some chicken from Maya’s sandwich. We gave her a bowl of milk to lap from when she finally stopped eating entirely. So this morning, when Sean told the kids to pet the cat before they left for school, which is not part of their normal routine, Maya put two and two together and drew the obvious conclusion.

Pumpkin

About a month ago, Sean felt like Pumpkin was getting thinner and took her to the vet for some blood work. It turns out that she had only lost a few ounces, and her test results were good, as the vet described, for a twelve year old cat. Initially, we accepted that and moved on. But since then, we’ve noticed a slowly decreasing level of interest in eating, a pattern of hiding herself away and sleeping, an increased definition to the bones of her hips, shoulders and back.

Given our history with cats and intestinal cancer, we asked to have an ultrasound. Because the ultrasound was anomalous, they did an x-ray as well. There was a large, presumably cancerous mass in her chest. At her age and in her condition, there was no treatment plan. She’d dropped a full pound of her weight in the month since we had taken her for blood work, and as anyone who’s met her knows, she’s a pretty tiny cat to begin with. After a couple days of “good bye” time, we took her in this morning to be euthanized.

The Pumpkinator

Pumpkin came to us about 11 years ago. Friends of ours had been taking care of this feisty little stray cat. She had to live in their garage due to a “personality conflict” with their resident cat. When they moved to a house with no air conditioning in the garage, they sent her to come live with us. At that point, I think she was cat number five at our place, and surprising no one, the “personality conflict” continued. She would hunch up into a little orange and black ball and emit growls of astonishing volume, given her small stature. If any cat came near her, she’d swat at them, claws bared, and crank up the intensity of her growl. We jokingly referring to her as Pumpkinator.

Over the years she grew to tolerate the other cats in the house. She was never going to be one to seek them out for company, but she would put up with them curling up with her for warmth. Outside cats were another thing entirely. If neighborhood cats came up on the porch, she’d be right back to growling and hissing, smacking at the windows and posturing.

Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

She maintained her Pumpkinator status right up to the end. At the vet, when they were trying to place the IV this morning, Pumpkin fought them like a champ. Our four pounds of not-eating, cancer-riddled cat had to be sedated just so they could get her ready to be put to sleep. We were told that she hadn’t taken the ultrasound earlier in the week lying down either. Is it weird that I’m kind of proud?

As much as she hated cats, she loved people. She was a talkative cat, and she regularly greeted visitors with long strings of plaintive meows. To my ear, it was more like she was saying the word “meow” instead of making a cat noise. Any available lap was fair game, but of course, it had to be on her terms. She would arrange herself as she pleased on your lap and allow you to pet her. When she was through being petted (but wanting to remain on your comfortable, warm legs), she bit you. Usually not too hard; just enough to let you know that you were done.

For all her fierceness, she had some odd fears. She was utterly terrified of the car. The racket she made when we had to drive her to or from the vet was incredible. The meows almost became screams. It sounded like we were driving an angry baby instead of a cat. Also, the poor thing hated thunderstorms. At the first crack of thunder, you would see Pumpkin slinker away, creeping low to find cover, a furry little soldier army-crawling across the living room floor to avoid the raindrops.

No cameras!

Pumpkin’s strangest apprehension though was of the camera. All Sean had to do was hold the camera up and she bolted. The actual click of the shutter would inspire full on panic. He has a hundred blurry photos of that cat as she avoided his lens over the years.

While her roar was mighty, Pumpkin was actually an oddly dainty cat. She didn’t care for having dirty paws. We had hoped she’d be a fearsome bug hunter, but nope. If they accidentally crawled near her, she’d back away and shaker her paws off in case any had gotten on her. She used her litter box faultlessly unless suffering one of the urinary tract infections she was prone to. Her property damage bill ranks far lower than any other cat we’ve had, including Hank who hasn’t even been here a year. She was never a great snuggler, preferring instead to curl up in a prim little ball on your lap to be quietly petted.

Any prudish behavior was set aside for poultry though, especially turkey. Pumpkin was crazy for the stuff. She seemed to have an aversion to people food, except for birds and whipped cream. One thanksgiving, we let her have her way with the turkey carcass after we had carved away most of the good stuff. She loved it. I think she might actually have removed someone’s finger had they tried to stop her.

Pumpkin also had a massive shoe fetish, demonstrating a particular fondness for well-worn leather. Barely had we removed our shoes before she was half in them, rubbing her face all over them to make them her own.

We used to leave our doors open and let the cats sleep on the bed with us if they so chose. When we had kids and sleep became a precious commodity, we started closing our door to try to preserve whatever rest we were afforded. Knowing her time was short and wanting to provide her what pleasure we could, we left the door open the night before last to let Pumpkin sleep in the bed if she wanted to. Before I even got there, she was in the bed chirping at me. As I crawled in, she carefully laid her old body down, close enough to be touching, but not really laying on me. She purred, loud and vital, and you could almost believe she wasn’t sick at all. She stayed there with us all night.

Maya frowns on purpose because she thinks it’s hilarious

It was a hard thing taking Pumpkin into the vet this morning. She’s been a vocal and loving presence in our lives her whole time with us. The kids adore her. Despite me repeatedly explaining to Ian that Pumpkin is dead, all gone, and never coming back, he asks when we’re bringing her home again. Maya, at bedtime this evening told me that she was sad about Pumpkin. “But, I want her,” she said. I let her know that we all feel the same way.